


The Taste You Leave on my Tongue (Like Honey and Wine)

by everybreathagift



Series: Decadence [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: All the kinks basically, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Cannibalism, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Murder Husbands, TPE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-02-28 14:05:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everybreathagift/pseuds/everybreathagift
Summary: Will and Hannibal continue to find their way. Codependency and kink, and maybe a touch of dark romance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Really excited to post this finally. I hope you all enjoy it.

“Oh, this is Nigel. My roommate.” 

Only Will can see the surprise on Hannibal’s face, anyone else would miss it. The tiniest twitch of his eyebrow upward, shoulders barely tensing. Almost immediately, that surprise turns to something else, something darker. Something Will has been aching to see for months.

“Hello,” Hannibal says cordially, giving Derrick a friendly smile, looking gentle as a lamb.

Will steps closer to Derrick, close enough to smell the stench of his sweat. “Don’t mind him,” he remarks, touching Derrick’s forearm. “Harmless. And used to my house guests.”

“Right,” Derrick drawls, looking back and forth between Will and Hannibal. “I’m too sober for a threesome, man.”

Again, the tension in Hannibal’s shoulders. “Ah,” Will grins, pulling a small container of cocaine from his pocket and setting it on the counter. In his peripheral, he sees Hannibal take off his jacket and place it neatly on the barstool. Will’s heart rate spikes. “Good thing I have this, then.”

Derrick eyes the brown vial suspiciously, silent. Hannibal is rolling his sleeves up, slowly, a carefully blank look on his face. He’s yet to look at Will again.

Will prays Derrick can’t see how he’s struggling to breathe properly.

“Hey,” Will says softly, dragging his fingertip over the stubble on Derrick’s jaw. “It’s cool, right? I mean, if this isn’t your thing…”

“No, no,” Derrick responds quickly, shivering at Will’s touch. “You’re way too hot for me to walk out now. S’long as he’s cool with this.”

“He is,” Will answers, turning Derrick to face him. This is it. “Watch.”

Will casts a look to Hannibal, drinking in the level of anger he feels from him, wanting to bathe in it, drown in it. Let it suffocate him.

He leans in, giving Derrick a flirty grin as he moves in toward his face. The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes and presses his lips to Derrick’s, is Hannibal rounding the counter behind his target.

And then a crash.

Will pulls back, eyes wide as he watches Derrick’s eyes roll back, wine pouring down his face comically, like those cheesy action movies Will watches from time to time. He hits the kitchen floor, dazed but not entirely unconscious. And all Will can do is stare down at him, speechless, heart pounding in his throat.

Until he’s pulled from the kitchen by Hannibal’s hand in his hair. He nearly trips over Derrick’s prone form, but Hannibal’s grip never falters, dragging Will into the dining room. 

“You brought him to our home,” Hannibal says, and Will can’t help but notice how calm he is. His breathing didn’t even change. Will’s pretty sure he  _ shouldn’t _ be getting aroused right now, but here he is.

Will swallows, feeling significantly smaller than he did thirty seconds ago. “I made sure he wasn’t seen.”

“You cannot make that guarantee.” Shockingly, Will begins to see the storm raging beneath the surface. “You would force my hand to this?” Hannibal asks, showing the most emotion that Will has seen from him in months and God, Will feels high with it.

The fire in his eyes is heady and dangerous and Will wants to be torched by it. Wants Hannibal to turn that rage on him.

“What choice did you leave me, Hannibal?” Will demands, refusing to sound as excited as he feels.

But when Hannibal’s hand shoots up to wrap around Will’s throat, forcing Will against the wall and looming over him, Will’s knees turn to jelly.

“That is _not_ my name.” Will’s too dumbfounded to respond, too focused on the way Hannibal’s nostrils flare and how unsteady his breathing has become. “Did you, for even one second, consider  _ why _ I haven’t indulged in this? Did you stop for a moment and consider how I’ve felt?”

Swallowing hard against the grip, Will whispers, “Every day, Sir. I tried to talk to you-”

“No, you tried to present me with opportunities, boy. Never once did you try to have a conversation.”

Hannibal lets go of Will’s throat and takes a step back, releasing a breath. He looks back toward the kitchen, then down at his feet, before looking at Will. In all of their time together, Will has never felt more pinned than he does now.

“Having knowledge is not the same as participating, Will,” Hannibal says quietly. “Fantasies and reality are two different things.”

Will blinks. “I’m… I know that. Of all people, I absolutely know that.”

“Do you?” Hannibal asks, voice hushed and suddenly, Will can’t sense his anger anymore. Only concern. “Do you understand there’s no going back from this? Once you’ve seen…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Will chuckles mirthlessly, realization hitting him hard enough to twist his stomach, disgusted with himself for being so blind. “You… what? You think I’ll be shocked if I see it? I studied your crimes for ages, Sir. I probably know those scenes better than-”

“Pictures, boy,” Hannibal breathes. “You’ve analyzed photographs and dissected the aftermath. You’ve never  _ seen _ me.”

But Will _can_ see now how scared Hannibal is, an entirely foreign concept to such a man. He probably hasn’t experienced true fear since he was a child, but the idea that Will might leave -again- has him so shaken that he’s been willing to live an outright lie, if it means keeping Will close.

Heart aching, Will steps forward and touches Hannibal throat. “I want to see you. I don’t want this charade you’ve been living, I want  _ you .  _ Hannibal Lecter, the Chesapeake Ripper, my Dominant. All of you.”

Hannibal closes his eyes and turns into Will’s palm. “And if you decide it’s not something you can stomach? You left, last time. I told you I couldn’t let you go again.”

“You’ll kill me, I know,” Will smiles.

“I’m quite serious.”

Will smiles wider. “I know.”

Hannibal can only search Will’s eyes for a long moment, looking for any trace of doubt. Eventually, he says, “this attachment I have to you is unhealthy, you realize.”

Will has to pull him close, kiss his full lips, press himself up on his toes to feel Hannibal entirely as he laughs. “Sure, Sir.  _ That’s  _ what’s unhealthy here.”

A groan rumbles from Hannibal’s chest as he nuzzles against Will’s cheek. “You’ve any idea of the wrath you face, my boy? The insolence you must pay for?”

Will feels lightheaded from how quickly his cock starts to harden, clutching at Hannibal’s shirt to keep himself upright. But there’s months to make up for, after all, and truthfully, Will just wants to see if he can wind Hannibal up even more.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. Sir.”

Hannibal’s lip  _ almost _ curls into a snarl, and suddenly, Will’s head is ripped back by his hair. He couldn’t stop the loud moan from passing through his lips if he’d wanted to.

“You cannot imagine the things I’ve longed for. How I’ve wished to tear into your skin every time my name left your mouth.”

“You can show me,” Will promises, tugging on Hannibal’s lip with his teeth. “And we’ll talk until we run out of breath. But for now…”

After another second of closeness Hannibal steps back, takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders. Will can practically see the tension melt away from him, like a tangible thing and he sets his jaw, nodding slightly.

“Yes. For now. Come along, boy.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *strolls back in with Starbucks* Sorry I'm late. There was traffic. 
> 
> I love all of you, if anyone is still here. Hope this chapter was worth the stupidly, ridiculously long wait.

Will feels like his hands should be trembling. Or that his heart should be racing. Isn’t it said that the rate of someone’s heartbeat during violent acts shows their true nature, or something to that effect? 

But his hands aren’t shaking and his pulse is slow and steady, even as he looks at his blade glinting under the harsh, overhead basement lights. Nothing changes when the man in front of him whimpers behind his gag, pulls against the restraints on his wrists and ankles.

Will doesn’t feel much of anything except the goosebumps on his flesh from the very intense stare Hannibal is giving him.

“Will.”

Slowly, Will looks up, utterly caught by Hannibal’s eyes. 

“This isn’t a requirement. It’s not a compulsion for me.” When Will doesn’t speak, Hannibal takes a step forward. “We cannot let him go, but you can leave us be. I’ll take care of everything, and we never have to speak of it again.” 

He’s scared. Still. Scared that Will has officially decided this isn’t something he can handle. Scared that Will is going to leave, and he’ll be forced to discover if he could ever truly harm his partner.    
  
What an odd thing. Will spent his entire life hiding from this darkness. It’s not as though he hadn’t known it was there. Even as a child, he knew he was different. He wanted so badly to be normal, so he shoved it down, as deep inside of himself as it could go. Became a cop just to spite it, to prove that he could help people instead of harm. Fought his entire life to avoid the very thing he’s about to give into. 

Except that Will _ can _ help people. He does  _ want  _ too. Innocent people, deserving people. The pig in front of him doesn’t fall under any of those categories. The boys he hurt, however, do. Getting rid of this waste of oxygen is a public service, really. And while Will won’t be able to give any of the victims peace of mind, he’ll never be able to hurt another soul.

And beyond all of that, a much more pressing interest is the look on Hannibal’s face. He would do this just for him, if he’s honest. Without any justification. He would absolutely take a life as long as Hannibal keeps looking at him the way he’s looking at Will now.    
  
Will stares down at his prey, watching him struggle, curse and spit from behind his gag and realizes that he should castrate him, if he wants the death to match the crime. But despite his previous thoughts, he understands that isn’t something he’s ready to do. 

His knife finds its way into the pig’s stomach instead.

Will has seen enough dead bodies to be prepared for this, but the sound that comes out his victim’s -his  _ victim’s _ \- mouth is unlike anything he’s ever heard. This muffled, low pitched grunt that travels down Will’s spine. He watches the blood pool up and out, around his blade and soaking through the man’s shirt. 

He pulls the blade out and does it again. And again. And again. Marveling at how easy it is to puncture flesh and organs. To eradicate a hateful, vile  _ creature _ with his own hands. Syrupy warmth spatters onto his face, his neck, and his arm is covered. Deep red stark against the white knuckled grip of his hand.

“This is less than you deserve,” Will hears himself saying, though his voice sounds foreign to his own ears, listening to the man sputter and cough around his own blood and the gag.

For a brief moment, after Will shoves his knife into the man’s throat, the gurgling gets worse. And then, it all stops.    
  
The room is utterly still save for Will’s own labored breathing. The last of the undeserved light fades from Derrick Montagne’s eyes, and Will has never felt so  _ alive. _

Will steps back, looking down at the splatter pattern across his chest and arms, then looks up at Hannibal. 

“Did I do okay?” He asks, winded. He knows he did - it’s not like they were planning anything for this, nothing to fuck up - but he also knows Hannibal will appreciate the question, the tone that’s used.

Hannibal doesn't answer, doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. He looks utterly blank, staring at Will, but for the first time that Will can recall ever seeing, Hannibal’s hands are shaking.

“Will,” he says, choked and unblinking.

Will smiles softly and walks around the table, touching Hannibal’s cheek, leaving a smear of blood. “It's called being overwhelmed, Sir.”

“Is it?”

“Mhm. Feeling so much of  _ something _ yet unable to decipher what to do with it. Unable to even truly register what that something is.”

“I usually kill things that make me feel this much,” Hannibal says, and Will would laugh if he didn’t look so damned confused. It’s adorable, but Will wouldn’t dare tell him so.

“Do you wish to kill me?”

“ _ Yes, _ ” Hannibal responds passionately, eyes drifting shut for a moment as he rests his forehead to Will’s.

Will smiles, heart pounding in his throat. “Good. Can you settle for hurting me instead?” Will presses against him, uncaring of the blood he’s ruining Hannibal’s clothes with, looking up through his lashes.

Instantaneously, Hannibal’s lip curls into a snarl and he clutches Will's arm, hard enough to immediately inhibit circulation, before his jaw clicks and he bodily moves away. When he speaks, Will can hear the barely tempered urgency. “I won’t - I fear I'll be unable to control myself at this moment. Perhaps now is not the best time to give me free rein.”

And God, if that doesn’t give Will the most extreme need to do exactly that. He  _ wants.  _ So much. Wants Hannibal to lose all sense of himself and simply  _ take _ . In every way, anything that Will can provide him. But despite that, Will’s wary of spooking Hannibal back into docility, so he nuzzles at Hannibal’s cheek for a moment.

“Shall we clean up first?”

Hannibal swallows, dragging his intense stare from Will back to the tattered remains of Derrick Montagne, unblinking. He opens his mouth as though to speak, before abruptly closing it and swallowing once more.

Will laughs, absolutely  _ ecstatic. _ “I would think that your memory is damn near perfect, Sir. Cleaning it up won't make it disappear entirely. It’s in here.” He grazes Hannibal’s temple with his fingertip. “And I can always make you another. You have to properly show me next time, you know, rather than stand around looking enamored.”

Hannibal looks at him then, clearly stricken. His brow is drawn, tight lines around his eyes, mouth slightly open, looking absolutely baffled for the first time that Will can ever remember. The words that leave his mouth are spoken so clearly, filled with awe and something like wonderment. “I love you.”

Months. They’ve been together  _ months _ , and they’ve never said it. Will didn’t think it needed to be said. In the grand scheme of things, the word doesn’t really fit for them. Can love describe the willingness to die for someone? How about killing for them? Does it describe the feeling that Will gets in his chest anytime Hannibal leaves the room, or the distinctly different feeling he gets when Hannibal comes back?

Will doesn’t think so but maybe it’s the only word in available vocabulary. After all,  _ I’m truly and wholeheartedly obsessed with you _ doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.

Never mind that hearing it still makes Will’s stomach drop to his knees, it’s not like he didn’t know. Honestly, how could Hannibal  _ not _ know? Yet here he is, utterly confused as to how something so normal could happen to him.

It’s so goddamned endearing that Will can only laugh again, slightly shaking his head as he steals a kiss. “I know you do. Now, come help me.”

 

~****~

 

It probably says many things that the adrenaline doesn’t hit Will until after. After Hannibal has carried him up the stairs and to their bedroom, into the bath, scrubbed every inch of him and then taken him to bed. Once he’s drawn blood with his nails against Will’s back and sunk his teeth into the side of Will’s throat.

“Nothing short of evisceration could ease this ache in my heart, could it, boy?”

_ That’s  _ when the adrenaline hits Will. Forcefully and without restraint.

“No, Sir. Either mine or yours.”

“Oh,” Hannibal breathes as he tugs Will’s head back by his hair. “Only mine. Your evisceration would simply ensure the death of this world and then my own, shortly after.”

Will kisses him hard, shaking against him, every nerve ending and cell and atom alight. He  _ killed _ a man tonight. He took a life with his own hands. Felt the warm blood hit his face, watched as the remnants washed down the drain.

“My beautiful, dangerous boy,” Hannibal whispers against his mouth. “There are no words to express how magnificent you were tonight.”

“It was amazing, Sir,” Will exclaims, straddling Hannibal’s thighs and pushing him to lean back against the headboard. “I… I felt him die. I watched him take his last breath.”

“Did you feel powerful?”

“I felt like you.”

Hannibal groans deeply, setting his teeth against Will’s shoulder. “I want to hurt you.”

“You can.”    
  
“I will. Once I have a tighter rein on my emotions.”   
  
“Hurt, not harm.”    
  
“Precisely. Tomorrow, however, we’ll start your training. You have my deepest apologies for neglecting you this long.”

Will bites his lip. “I want my collar back, Sir. Please?” Will asks, pressing his hips down, feeling every twitch and pulse of Hannibal’s hard cock against his own.

Hannibal slides his palms up Will’s ribs, hands warm and soft, until he reaches Will’s throat. There, he presses his thumb into the hollow, his eyes following the movement before he finally meets Will’s again.

“May I give you my collar, Will?” 

As though Will’s heart wasn’t already full to bursting, as though his grasp on his own reality wasn’t wobbly enough. He wraps his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders, trusting his Sir to keep him upright when he can’t trust his own ability.    
  
“ _ Yes _ . Yes, Sir, please. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

Hannibal releases a heavy breath, pulling Will against him so tight, pressing soft kisses to Will’s throat. Like he expected Will to tell him no.

“Do you want your temporary collar back until yours is ready? It will take a few weeks.” 

Will shakes his head immediately. “No, Sir. I want to wait for yours.” 

Hannibal trembles, tasting Will’s pulse point. “I want to hurt you,” he whispers for the second time, making Will grin and arch in pleasure all at once. “I’m starting with the belt tomorrow, boy. You’ll spend the day nude and at my heel, understood?”

Will’s cock is fucking aching. “Yes, Sir, happily, anything you want- please…”    
  
When Hannibal slides his fingers into Will’s hair and tugs harshly, Will can physically feel the endorphins flood his brain. The pleasurable haze of his space, last felt far too long ago, coming back like an old lover. Hannibal pulls him up, until Will is resting on his knees over him. Large, warm hands encase his hips tightly, and he feels Hannibal slouch further down the bed.

“Be still.” 

In this position, the words ghost over Will’s cock, and his heart seizes in response. Hannibal has sucked him off numerous times, of course, but never in this dynamic. Not in this headspace. 

“Sir,” Will whispers, swallowing harshly. He wants to hide his face, but the command keeps his arms by his sides.

“You're making a mess, boy.”

Hannibal drags his thumb over Will’s slit, gathering up the fluid there, then brings it to his mouth. Will has to close his eyes. Can't bear the sight of his  _ Sir  _ tasting his pleasure. His thighs are starting to ache, his knees trembling under how tightly he's wound and the position he's in.

“Can you hold your orgasm if I take you in my mouth?”

Will’s face flames. “I’m-” 

“Answer me honestly. I’ve no wish to punish you this evening.” 

Just the mere mention of  _ punishment _ makes Will’s cock drip and he shakes his head quickly. “No, Sir, no, I can’t. I couldn’t.”

Hannibal kisses the leaking head softly, just to make Will’s stomach clench. “An experiment for another day, then. On your stomach.”    
  
Will releases a heavy breath and does as he’s bid, all but shaking with anticipation as he hears Hannibal opening up the side table drawer. The pillow is soft against his burning face, the sheets cool on his overheated skin. He waits with bated breath until Hannibal pulls him up slightly by the hips. 

“Don’t expect patience from me tonight, boy.”

“I don’t want patience,” Will moans as two fingers breach his hole. “Just want you.” 

Another moan, louder this time, when Hannibal slaps the sensitive flesh of his ass, hard, driving his fingers deeper. “Careful what you wish for.”    
  
“Please,” Will begs, already pushing back for more, already dancing on the edge of incoherent. “Please, Sir, I’m ready.”    
  
He isn’t, he knows that. It’s going to hurt but he wants it. Wants the sting and ache of Hannibal forcing himself inside. They had the ‘no condoms’ talk ages ago, and Will is especially thankful for it tonight. Even that thin barrier between them would be too much. 

Hannibal pulls him up and back, onto his knees into a sitting position. Their matching groans as Will slides down Hannibal’s cock fill the room.

“Forgive me, sweet boy, I won’t last,” Hannibal whispers, ghosting his lips across Will’s nape as he wraps his arms tight around Will’s stomach. “You are exquisite, Will.” 

Will shudders violently, reaching back to grab Hannibal’s hair. This position sends Hannibal incredibly deep, hitting every right spot, pressed as close to one another as possible.

When Will rolls his hips, Hannibal jerks forward harshly with a hiss, stealing Will’s breath. It all feels so  _ fucking good _ .

“There are so many things I want to do to this body. So many things I've longed for.”

“It’s yours,” Will vows, arching his back. “Do with it as you please.”

“I intend to,” Hannibal growls against Will’s shoulder.

Will hisses as Hannibal’s teeth puncture the skin above his shoulder blade, his entire body tensing for a moment before he goes limp, relaxing into the pain with a sigh. He knows blood has been drawn and it makes his cock pulse, makes him press back onto Hannibal’s cock harder.

“Please, again, please… Sir, I’m-”

“Not until I say,” Hannibal warns, but does as Will asks. This time on Will’s neck. 

Distantly, he thinks about how very visible the mark will be, how everyone that he sees for the next week will know, and it makes him throb and clench.

He throbs again when Hannibal moans in response, his nails carving sharp into Will’s thighs.

“I love you, Will,” he whispers, agonized, wrapping one hand around Will’s throat and the other around Will's cock, stroking quickly. “You're mine, eternally. Come for me. Let me feel it.”

Will whimpers, utterly overwhelmed and in love and so happy. He pushes back onto Hannibal’s cock, forward into his hand, focusing on the feeling of Hannibal’s fingers squeezing his throat and he comes. White noise fills his ears and he bites his lip hard enough to break skin. It’s so powerful that he cries out, clawing at every part of Hannibal he can reach.

“Good boy. You're so good for me, Will, you feel so good-”

When Will comes back to himself, he hears Hannibal murmuring, feels him straining as he chases his own pleasure in Will’s body. His skin tingles, his mind perfectly blank, his limbs loose and heavy. He's missed this  _ so much. _

His head lolls back onto Hannibal’s shoulder, their sweat slicked skin catching the fresh wound on his shoulder. He presses his lips under Hannibal’s ear.

“Love you, Sir, so much. Now will you come for me? Please?”

Immediately, Hannibal groans loudly and clutches Will's throat tight enough to restrict airflow, and Will shivers as Hannibal finishes inside him. He wants to stay like this forever. Held tight by his Sir, protection at his throat, sore and floaty.

The room fills only with the sounds of their shared panting, everything feeling too much and not enough all at once. How the hell did he live without this for so long?

“This… feels so much like a dream,” Hannibal murmurs, nose buried in Will’s curls.

“You're awake, I promise,” Will slurs, feeling his eyes slide shut and his arms start to tremble.

When he opens them again, he’s on his side and Hannibal is cleaning him up, looking almost dazed himself. Gentle fingers coaxing him from his side to his stomach, a sweet kiss to his hip bone.

“I need to clean this, darling,” Hannibal says quietly, touching the bite mark on Will’s shoulder.

“Only clean it, though?”

“I know, sweet boy, no stitches.”

He must check out again because what feels like a moment later, Hannibal is walking back into the room carrying a tray, dressed in only his silk sleep pants.

“Fruit and fresh cream, for the glucose. I promise I’ll let you sleep properly after.” 

Will groans and slowly, sluggishly sits up. He’s sore everywhere and his mind still feels fuzzy.    
  
“How are you feeling?”

“Fucking amazing,” Will answers honestly, curling into Hannibal’s side as he dips a blackberry into the cream. “How are you, Sir?”

“Desperate to stay in this moment.”

Will frowns and looks up at his face, wishing he sounded as happy as Will feels. Instead, he both sounds and looks worried. Not at all what Will wants after the evening they’ve had. Unfortunately, it sobers him up a little.

He sits up, careful not to dump the tray, and turns to face Hannibal. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t start hiding from me again, Sir, not now. I couldn’t take it.” 

Hannibal cups his cheek, watching intensely as Will nuzzles into it. “I have absolutely no intention of doing so, boy. I’ll be perfectly well tomorrow.”    
  
Ah. He gets it now. Will’s shoulders sag in relief. “When you wake up and see I’m still here, covered in your marks and there’s still a fresh body downstairs.”    
  
Hannibal blinks. “You assume I intend to sleep.”

Will grins, snagging a strawberry and pressing it to Hannibal’s mouth. Then kisses the taste from his lips. “You made me some pretty grand promises for tomorrow, Sir. You’ll need your rest.”

Almost snarling, Hannibal pulls Will’s head back by his hair, licking over the fresh wound on his throat. “Blatantly manipulative.” Will shivers, eyes sliding shut. “Eat, boy. It is well past your bedtime.”    
  
Will grabs one more blackberry, slathered in cream this time, and slides back down, pressed tightly to Hannibal. “I have a bedtime now?”    
  
“Yes. You have an entire schedule,” Hannibal says resolutely. “Tomorrow will be an interesting day, darling.”    
  
Will smiles wide enough to make his cheeks hurt, practically smothering himself in Hannibal’s ribs. “Yes, Sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo..... how y'all doing? Love it? Hate it? Hate me? Let me know, please!

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, any thoughts? Things you hope to see? Things you don't wanna see? Let me know! And come chat with me on tumblr!


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